


An Unexpected Confidence

by devilinthedetails



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Gen, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Vernestra Rwoh is astonished by the unexpected confidence Master Stellan Gios shows in her.
Kudos: 1





	An Unexpected Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> Vernestra Rwoh and Master Stellan Gios are both characters from the High Republic era. I am fascinated by the High Republic era and the new characters associated with it, so I decided to start delving into that era and exploring its characters through fanfic.

An Unexpected Confidence

Vernestra Rwoh wondered if she would ever be as poised as Jedi Master Stellan Gios, who was serving as guest instructor for this telekinesis lesson that primarily included initiates who were three and four years her senior. Master Stellan seemed to find joy in teaching initiates for he volunteered to teach many classes when he was at the Coruscant Temple between missions, Vernestra had noted as she did so many things. The initiates enjoyed Master Stellan’s lessons as much as he did teaching them because he was always quick to smile, to joke, to express approval for a perfectly performed practical assignment or a well-articulated point in a theoretical discussion…

Her attention had wavered, and the crate of tools she was supposed to be lifting from one wall of the room to the other with her mind, her will, and her connection to the Force wobbled along with her lapsed focus. Attention and concentration determined trajectory. That was the first lesson she had been taught in telekinesis. She had been a fool indeed to let her thoughts roam so far from the task she was meant to accomplish. 

Berating herself wouldn’t straighten the crate, however. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Vernestra reached out to the crate and urged it to be steady. Once the crate’s equilibrium had been restored, she nudged it along on its journey to the far side of the room. 

“Focus on your crates.” Master Stellan’s words felt so tailored to Vernestra’s embarrassing loss of attention that her green cheeks flushed pink. “Use the Force to reach out to them. Grasp them gently and firmly. Envision the destination you have for them. Wrap yourselves around them. Guide them to their appointed endpoint, and when they are at their appointed endpoint, lower them to the ground with confidence.” 

With confidence. The final phrase echoed in Vernestra’s ears. She wished she could be as confident as Master Stellan, but she was so uncertain, and that was why her attention and her crate had wavered. She had heard many of her teachers remarking with awe that she was a prodigy in her ability to understand and control the Force and been on the receiving end of countless envious comments from her fellow students about how she was a natural who didn’t have to work hard to wield the Force. 

Vernestra didn’t think of herself as a prodigy, a natural, or someone who didn’t have to work hard to wield the Force. She thought of herself as a young girl tentative in her use of the Force who grew more and more achingly aware of how ignorant she was about the mysterious ways of the Force as she studied it day by day. Nor did she believe that she had any more natural ability with the Force than any other Jedi. As for hard work, she felt as if she had always channeled her heart, brain, and soul into her lessons along with a ton of blood, sweat, and tears. There was such a gap between how her fellow Jedi perceived her and how she viewed herself that she worried about falling into that chasm and losing herself sometimes. 

Her crate had arrived at the other end of the room. She lowered it with all the confidence that she could muster, and to her satisfaction, she didn’t see or hear it jolt as it landed. 

“Good job, everyone.” Master Stellan called an end to the lesson with a clap of his hands. “I saw some excellent improvements from everybody over the course of the lesson. Class dismissed.” 

“Thank you, Master Gios,” Vernestra recited in unison with the rest of the class, bowing along with the other initiates.

The lesson over, the students began to leave the room, chatting in groups of twos and threes as they exited. Vernestra found it difficult to form friendships or be truly accepted by these initiates who were so much older than her, so she didn’t join any of these pairings or trios, and instead made her way toward the door by herself. 

“Vernestra.” Master Stellan held out a hand to stop her as she neared the exit. “I’d like a word with you in private.” 

“Yes, Master.” Vernestra bowed, grateful that her unease could be partially concealed by the traditional courtesy extended to a teacher by an initiate. 

Was she to be reprimanded for losing her concentration and making her crate wobble? Would she be demoted to a lower level of telekineses instruction, exposed as an incompetent unable to handle this high level? Such a demotion wouldn’t be intended to humiliate or punish but to provide an education that would better suit her unique needs, but she would still feel it as an embarrassment. A failure. An indictment of her work ethic and Force abilities. 

She swiped sweaty palms on her tunic, controlling her hammering heart, and informing herself sternly that she would accept any demotion with grace and equanimity as a Jedi should. 

By the time Vernestra had conquered her anxiety, the rest of her classmates had departed, leaving her all alone with Master Stellan, who suddenly seemed to tower over her small eight-year-old frame.

“Let’s take a walk together, shall we?” Master Stellan’s smile as he offered this suggestion made much of the tension coiled inside Vernestra dissipate. The remaining anxiety faded from her when he placed a light hand on her shoulder and steered her out of the classroom into the corridor. 

Together, they strolled down the hallway, Master Stellan adjusting his larger stride to Vernestra’s in what appeared to be an unconscious fashion. Halfway down the corridor, they came to an alcove that contained a curving row of cushioned seats that circled a floor-to-ceiling viewport that offered a panoramic perspective of Coruscant’s glittering skytowers and superskytowers as well as the shimmering speeders that traveled between these stratosphere-piercing edifices. 

Master Stellan waved his hand in an indication that she should sit, and Vernestra did so, sinking into the cushions and waiting to hear what this man she so admired had to say to her. 

“You are a gifted student, Vernestra.” Master Stellan fixed a serious gaze upon her, and Vernestra reflected that while she had heard countless teachers make this statement over the years, somehow it sounded different coming from Master Stellan. “Even when your concentration wavered and your crate began to wobble, you were able to regroup and regain your focus before I could remind you to do so.” 

“Thank you, Master.” Vernestra ducked her head, pleased that her error hadn’t been as grave as she had thought it was. 

“I’d like to offer you some more personalized instruction,” continued Master Stellan. 

“Private lessons you mean, Master?” Vernestra asked. She had heard that some teachers did that with students they regarded as particularly promised, although normally those teachers weren’t guest ones like Master Stellan. 

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose.” Master Stellan grinned before his face became serious again. “I wish to take you as my Padawan if you would accept the role.” 

“Your Padawan?” repeated Vernestra in astonishment. She might have been only eight and not known nearly as much about being a Jedi as Master Stellan, but one thing she did know was that eight-year-olds were never chosen as Padawans. They were too young. 

“My Padawan, yes.” Master Stellan nodded, eliminating any theory Vernestra might have developed about her ears malfunctioning at an inopportune moment. 

“But I can’t be your Padawan now,” stuttered Vernestra. Realizing that this might sound more disrespectful than she intended, she amended in a rush, “I mean, I can’t be anyone’s Padawan right now. I’m eight. That’s much too young to be a Padawan. I’m not sure there’s ever been an eight-year-old Padawan in the history of the Jedi Order.” 

She was rambling. Abruptly and awkwardly aware of that fact, she bolted her mouth shut and waited to be chided for her rudeness. Initiates didn’t argue with Jedi Masters about anything. They kept their doubts and disagreements to themselves. At least her incoherent, argumentative babbling would likely be enough to convince Master Stellan that she was indeed too young to be chosen as his Padawan any time this century. 

“There’s no official rule about when an initiate is too young to be chosen as a Padawan.” Master Stellan, improbably, was smiling at her and not warning her to mind her manners. “Eight is young, but it is not necessarily too young if the Master and the student both feel the student is ready to be chosen by the Master. I feel that you are ready to be chosen as my Padawan. That is the guidance the Force is giving me, and I won’t ignore it. So the only question that remains is if you feel ready to be chosen by me?” 

“I don’t know.” Vernestra felt overwhelmed. As if her mind was shutting down like an overloaded, shortcircuting droid’s central processing unit. As if too much was happening to her too quickly for her to absorb or appreciate it. As if she were floating outside of herself in the air or drowning in an ocean of confusion. 

“Center yourself in the Force. Attune yourself to its wisdom.” Master Stellan’s tone was quiet but firm. “Trust its judgment, not your own reasoning. What is the Force telling you, Vernestra?” 

Vernestra closed her eyes, shutting out the external world to better focus on the internal one of the Force inside her. She took a deep breath through her nose, swirled it around inside her, and then slowly released it again through her nostrils. As she slipped into a meditative breathing pattern, submerging herself in Force’s will and wisdom, she listened to what the Force told her about her relationship with Master Stellan. 

He would be gentle and firm in guiding her on her journey to a greater understanding of the Force. He knew how to teach her more effectively than any other mentor she’d ever had at the Jedi Temple. She felt bonded to him in a unique way, a manner that was exponentially deeper than the limited time they had so far spent in each other’s presence. She felt that he had an intuitive understanding of her and how to teach her. She respected and admired more than any other Master at the Temple, even those on the High Council, because he knew how to address her doubts. How to coach her to overcome them so she could become the Jedi Knight she should be. 

As for being ready, she might not have felt ready to leave the group lessons of the initiates for the personalized instruction of a Padawan or to step from the safety of the Jedi Temple into the turmoil of the broader galaxy, but her weakness was ever her self-doubt. If Master Stellan unexpectedly had confidence in her, she must trust in the Force and have faith in herself when the Force whispered within her. 

The Force wanted her to reach her full potential, the purpose for which it had created her eight-years-ago, and it was telling her that Master Stellan would help her achieve that full potential. 

“The Force is telling me I should be your Padawan whether I feel ready to be or not.” Feeling suddenly brave and free of doubt, Vernestra rose to bow because it felt like the right and respectful thing to do, a sign of her esteem for her new Master. “I would be honored to serve as your Padawan, Master Stellan.”


End file.
